


The Exiled King

by LokiGodOfMischief



Series: King's Quest [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Sibling Bonding, Viserys Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-10-22 13:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10698186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiGodOfMischief/pseuds/LokiGodOfMischief
Summary: As a prophecy of doom cuts across the sky, two siblings, exiled from their homeland, turn their gaze westwards, to the Seven Kingdoms. But sometimes, to go west, one must first go east, to a city filled with lights, wonders and betrayal





	1. Father of Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George R. R. Martin and HBO

Viserys had to admit, the comet was a sight to behold. It cut across the night sky, the color of blood and flame.  _The color of our house. Small wonder Dany thinks it is a sign of our coming._ It had appeared in the night sky on the same night they burned Drogo's body on the pyre.  _The same night my little sister hatched the first dragons in living memory._ The Dothraki, especially the elders, considered it an ill omen, but Dany had been besides herself.

"It appears on the same night as the first living dragons in over 200 years are hatched, Viserys.  _The very same night._ The dragon is the symbol of our house. The colors, red on a black field, those are  _our_ colors. Fire and Blood, Viserys. The Gods are sending us a sign, extending us their favor."

There was a time, not so long ago, although it certainly seemed like ages had passed since then, when Viserys would have seized every single word and took them to heart. Every word, every promise, no matter how empty it really was, to keep him going on the path set out for him.  _The Iron Throne. Home._ But a lot had happened since then. The need to feed his ego and his unwillingness to look at the world as it really was, not how he imagined it should be, had almost cost him his head. Empty promises is what got him here in the first place. Having learned that lesson the hard way, it would be a wise course of action to not put too much faith in promises, especially those made by a comet, divine in nature or no. But he could not fault his sister for trying to seek a greater meaning in this so-called omen. It gave her hope, hope  that they were destined for greatness, that the Gods or fortune or whatever it was that was looking out for them would see them safely through this ordeal. Hope was in short supply, after all. 

He was less enthused when Dany had decided to follow the comet eastward. From the few times he had the opportunity to glance at a map, back in the Free Cities, he knew that there was some kind of desert there. Ser Jorah had confirmed this, but his sister would not hear otherwise. That was not the only reason they intended to strike eastward, however. The Dothraki Sea was closed to them. The first  _khalasar_ they would inevitably encounter would swallow them up and either enslave them or kill them outright. Dany's people, as he called them, consisted mostly of women, old men and young boys, with few men of fighting age. The horses they had left were old and sickly. For that reason, the way south, to the lands of the Lhazareen, were closed to them as well. Peaceful they might be, they had little reason to love them. The slaver cities of Astapor, Yunkai and Mereen were a viable option, but ser Jorah informed them that Khal Pono had gone that way with the thousands of captives he took from Drogo's  _Khalasar._ Dany argued that Pono would not hurt her, because he was kind to her in the past, but ser Jorah quickly dispelled that illusion. There was no other way open to them but east. When Dany proclaimed her intent to her people, no one spoke out against it, although Viserys could see the weary resignation on their faces. 

_The Red Wastes it is then._ he thought bitterly.  _Surely it cannot be that bad?_

 

*******

It was worse.

Even though they rode by night and took shelter from the burning sun by day, it was hell. He could see the exhaustion on the faces around him, the thirst they all suffered. The horses they had with them, old and sickly, were the first to perish, and the  _khalasar_ left behind a macabre trail of corpses. But if the horses were old and sickly, so too were her people, and three days into the march, the first man died. He was an old man, toothless. He just fell from his saddle and could not get up. An hour later, he was dead. Two days later, an infant girl died as well. 

For the rest of the group, the situation was dire. Food for their mounts was becoming scarce, with only some patches of devilgrass here and there. Even their strongest mounts had weakened immensely, and the watersupply was shrinking rapidly. They send out scouts and outriders to look for pools or wells, but they found nothing. The wine was gone, and the clotted mare's milk soon thereafter. The little food they had brought was gone too, so they filled their bellies with the meat of the fallen horses. 

Old men, women, infants, one by one they perished in the harsh environment. The stronger ones survived, but even they were suffering horribly. Dany lost whatever weight she had until she became as lean as a stick, her breasts drying up, cracking and bleeding. Ser Jorah looked gaunt and haunted, and his once formidable stature was somewhat diminished by the lack of food, water and proper sleep, and if Viserys had a mirror, or a pool to watch his reflection in, he knew he would hardly recognize the ghoul that was staring back at him. 

And then, there was the sand. Gods above, he never thought he could hate anything more than he hated the Usurper and his lapdogs, what they did to his family, and how they forced him to live a life on the run, in poverty. But even that hatred paled in comparison to his now all-encompassing hatred of sand. It was coarse, rough, irritating, and it got everywhere. Even though he rode a horse most of the time, or sat in his tent taking shelter from the sun for the rest of the day, somehow he could never be free from the blasted substance. His skin was chafed from it getting into his clothes, his boots were filled with it no matter how many times he emptied them, he simply detested the stuff. At one time, while lounging in his tent in the day, he set one of the dragons to try and burn the stuff out of sheer pettiness and desire to exact revenge. The results were somewhat dissappointing, even though the dragonfire did succeed in melting some of it, but it did manage to cheer him up somewhat.

Those three magnificent creatures were the only bright spot in his brief existence, and even moreso for Dany, who also carried the burden of caring for her people. They were still small, frail creatures, no bigger than a cat, and all bones, teeth and wings. They looked so innocent and tiny, and it was hard to believe that they would one day grow up to be the fearsome creatures that had once conquered the known world. It was a good thing that he was there, however, for although Dany loved her children more then life itself, she had no clue how to feed them and take care of them. Apparently, he had not taught her well in her childhood when he taught her everything he knew about dragons, for she had forgotten that they, like humans, like their meat cooked. Small wonder that they spat out ever peace of bloody raw horse meat his sister tried to force-feed them. After all, these were not mindless beasts, but intelligent and majestic creatures. 

And marvelous creatures they were. Vhagar, Meraxes and Balerion come again, he heard his sister describe them to her Bloodriders. Named for the gods of old Valyria. And indeed, it did seem like the largest of the three, the black one with the red eyes, was Balerion, come again. It was bigger than his brothers, and had a more vicious temper. He refused to be touched by anyone else than Dany, and every time she was out of sight, he would start to hiss and flew into a rage. Not even Viserys, the Father of Dragons, as Dany had jokingly dubbed him, was allowed to come near. He almost lost a finger trying to pet the creature, and after that, he learned to keep his distance. The green one did not outright snap at him, but otherwise showed little interest in him. The cream-and-gold one, however, seemed to had taken an instant liking to him, preferring his company over that of his brothers' and even his mother. Whenever he was not eating or sleeping, the dragon was perched on his shoulder and would only eat if Viserys gave him the meat. He allowed Dany to pet him and to be near him, but he made his preference for Viserys clear. Ser Jorah and Dany had started to call him Little Viserys, but later she changed it to Viserion. He tried to change it afterward, but it was too late. It appeared that it would only listen to that name. He was a bit embarrassed about it, but there was nothing he could do to change it. Dany decided to give the green dragon the name Rhaegal, after their brother Rhaegar, who perished on the green banks of the Trident, and the black one she named Drogon, after her late husband. Under their care, the dragons prospered.

The same could not be said of their little  _khalasar,_ however. The remaining stores of food were getting depleted rapidly, water was almost, and even the devilgrass was becoming scarce, causing the number of their horses to dwindle even more. There seemed to be no end to the desert, and now, even Dany was losing hope. He heard her quietly conferring with ser Jorah, who told her the honest truth, but in the same time managed to lift her spirits a bit. And he was right; forward was the only way. Turning back would make an unlikely survival impossible. 

He was so deep in thought that he did not notice Dany coming up to ride beside him, Drogon perched on her shoulder. The black dragon hissed at his smaller brother, who scooted a bit closer to Viserys' head. His hand absentmindedly went up to pet the small dragon. He caught Dany smiling at him and the corners of his mouth lifted somewhat.

"They truly are something, aren't they?" she said staring at Viserion with wonder. "The world seems like such a bleak place indeed, if creatures like them do not inhabit it."

Viserys, not knowing what it is she was getting at, simply nodded. Even though their relationship had improved considerably over the past few weeks, the sheer exhaustion that everyone was feeling was enough to make anyone lose interest in simple small talk. She already carried the weight of the entire _khalasar_ on her shoulder, she had no energy to spare for even the simplest of conversations. The Gods knew Viserys hadn't, but his sister always had was a stronger person than he was. If Viserys railed against the injustice in the world, particularly if the world was unjust to _him,_ his sister would fight to make the world a more just place. He could see that every single day, when he watched how she pushed her people onward by sheer force of will.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her glance back at her khalasar, before turning to him once more.

"Viserys?" she asked in a small, almost timid voice, and almost immediately an image of a younger Dany, cowering before his anger, appeared before his mind's eye, and once again, he was disgusted by himself. That voice belonged to a frightened little girl, not the strong, independent woman his sister had become when he wasn't looking. He looked at her face and to his surprise, he saw that her eyes were watering.

"Do you think I made a mistake?"

The question startled him. Of all the things she could have asked him, that was one he wasn't expecting. If there is one thing that kept them pushing onward through this hell, it was the unshakable belief Dany held that they were on the right path, that their destiny would prevent them from perishing in this forgotten wasteland. To hear her doubt that... Luckily they were well ahead of the main caravan, for if they heard what she just said, they might lose the tiny bit of hope that they still had, the conviction that their  _khaleesi_ would see them through this. But when he looked closely at her face, he saw the dark rings under her eyes, how underfed and exhausted she clearly was. It was clear to him that she wasn't really taking care of herself.

"What makes you say that?" he managed to squeeze out of his throat, and he watched as tears started to spill out of her eyes.

"Because I have doomed us all. I steered us into this waste, following a bloody star because I thought it was an omen of my destiny. I have sent us all to our deaths on a whim." And suddenly, it all made sense.  _She blames herself. Every mishap, every injury, every death, she thinks she is to blame because she led us down the only path that remained open to us._ He reached over and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, look at me." he said softly, and slowly she turned her head upward to look him in the eyes. The pained look in her violet eyes made his stomach clench painfully. "You did not doom us all. We all knew that it would be hard, but it was the only path open to us, and you know it. You freed every man and woman in this  _khalasar_ , and all of them were free to go their own way. No one forced them to follow you into this desert. You have not failed your people, Dany, if anything, you will have saved them. When, not if, we get out of this desert, for it is not endless, they will still be alive because of you. You not only lead them, you  _inspire_ them. You keep them going when they would just lay down their head and die. This is a hard path to walk, yes, but it is the only path where survival is still possible, distant as though it may appear to you know." She still seemed downcast, but the tears were no longer falling. "I know you blame yourself for every hardship we have to endure, for every life that was lost, and you should not. Don't dwell on those that have fallen, for it was an inevitability, but focus on those that you are saving. You are carrying a heavy burden, Dany, far heavier then someone of your age should, but you are doing it nonetheless, and you're doing it better then I ever could. But don't carry the weight of the dead."

She nodded, and managed to give him a small, watery smile, and suddenly, he wished that they were no longer riding so he could wrap her up in his arms and shelter her from the world. But they were, so instead, he gave her hand a final squeeze before dropping it. It seemed that his words were well received, as she straitened up, seemingly more energetic then before. Before she trotted off, he called after her. She turned her head inquisitively.

"I want you to know, I still think you are wrong about the comet and that it is utter nonsense. I am not following it, however, but I am following you. I may not believe in the significance of this comet, but if there is one thing in this world I do believe in, it is you."

He was rewarded with the biggest smile he had seen in weeks.

 

*****

The  _khalasar_ saw the newfound confidence with which their  _khaleesi_ carried herself, and they, in turn, took heart. And indeed, it seemed like their fortunes were improving. They chanced upon a water spring the next day, and although the water was warm and tasted horribly, everyone drank greedily and filled their water skins to bursting. A day later, one of the scouts Dany had sent forward returned with news they had all been dying to hear: he had found a city, pale as the moon, about an hour away. The night was coming to an end, though, and the sun had already risen in the east. But rather then wait a whole day, they decided to push forward, in hopes of reaching the city before the heat became unbearable. It seemed like the prospect of food, water and shade was enough to convince even the most cautious among them.

Unfortunately, the scout that had discovered the city had a strong horse, able to cross the distance much faster than the entire  _khalasar_ could. By the time they caught sight of the city walls, the sun was beating down mercilessly on the group, and all that was pushing them forward was the sight of the city in the distance. 

Viserys was suffering like he had never suffered before. Rivers of sweat were making his way down his body, and his clothes were plastered against his back. He reached for his waterskin for the fifth time in ten minutes, but when he placed it on his lips, he found that it was empty. Slowly and with great difficulty, he turned his head towards ser Jorah, who was riding beside him.

"Water" he rasped, and even that small word hurt his throat immensely. But it appeared that ser Jorah had not heard him, and he could not force his throat to produce another sound. So he slowly released the reigns of his horse to tap him on the shoulder, when suddenly, everything went black. He felt himself sliding out of the saddle and hitting the ground with a hard  _thud._ Then, he knew no more.

*****

He was surrounded by inky blackness. In the distance, he could hear voices, he could even faintly make out his name being called, but he was too weak, too frail to even attempt to call back. Instead, he just floated around, for seconds, minutes, hours, days, he could not tell. 

_If this is the afterlife, I am sorely disappointed._ he thought by himself. The Septons always preached of the seven circles of heaven and the seven circles of hell, but this looked nothing like they had described.  _Lying bastards._

After what felt like forever, he suddenly felt a hard tug behind his navel, like if someone grabbed him from behind and dragged him away. He felt himself falling, faster and faster, until he suddenly hit a solid floor. No longer was he surrounded by blackness, but he found himself lying down on a cold, stone ground. A marble floor, to be precise. He lifted his gaze before scrambling to his feet. He stood in a large room, no, a hall, with heigh ceilings and high, narrow windows. His vision was blurry, however, so he could only make out vague shapes. Suddenly, a small blurry shape stepped out from a larger blurry shape that could only be a column of some sort, and came towards him, growing rapidly. A voice appeared in the air, seemingly out of nowhere, a voice he had not heard in years.

"Hello Viserys."

A man appeared in his visage, a long, thin man, with unkempt, dirty silver-gold hair to his waist, a matted and unwashed beard, and yellow fingernails at least nine inches long. On the top of his head was a dragon-emblazed crown.

_"Father?"_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided that I wasn't done with Viserys after all, so I went ahead and created the second installment of the series I have dubbed the King's Quest series (by lack of a better name, if you have suggestions, post them below). This installment will cover the events of A Clash of Kings and season 2 of Game of Thrones. I still haven't decided if I will follow the books or the tv-show, but for the moment, the two storylines are still mostly similar. An example of this is Doreah, one of Dany's handmaidens. In the books, she dies in the Red Waste, in the TV series, it is Rakharo who dies there. Doreah then betrays Dany, kills Irri and gets locked into the vault. As you can see, I did not kill her off on-screen, but it might very well be that she died off-screen and Viserys just did not find it noteworthy or something. 
> 
> Anyway, if you like the story, give kudos, or you have suggestions or comments, leave a comment below. I would love to hear your ideas on where to take the character next.


	2. The Dragon Awakens

"This can't be.." Viserys whispered, his eyes roaming over the body of the man claiming to be his father. "You are dead!"

"Quite!" the man answered, pale, thin lips pulling apart and forming a mocking grin, revealing yellowed teeth. 

"Am I dead?" He did not  _feel_ dead, but then again, how should one feel when one's dead?

"I should hope not. The rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, scion of the House Targaryen, Blood of Old Valyria felled by a little sunlight? You would be an even greater disgrace to our house than you are now!" He looked Viserys in the eye with a disapproving glare, and suddenly, he was 4 years old again, forced to watch his father render judgement on his enemies. Viserys would never admit it, but his father ofttimes scared him. His appearance alone was enough to frighten any small boy, but his capricious moodswings and violent temper were the source of many nightmares. In his years of exile, it seemed that Viserys had lost that image of his father, replaced by that of a rightful and benevolent king that was betrayed by his friends and allies and murdered in cold blood by his own Kingsguard. And while that story remained true, and the Usurper and the Lords Lannister and Stark were still traitorous dogs that deserved to be executed for their crimes, the old scarecrow standing in front of him did not exactly look like a king.

He could not look his father in the eye, the withering glare too much for him to bear, and he looked at his feet in shame. To make things worse, his body started to shake uncontrollably. This did not go unnoticed by the king, who looked at him with contempt and spat on the ground.

"Weak!" he hissed scornfully. "I thought I had raised a son, not a pathetic little child afraid of his own shadow. Did someone chop off your manhood and feet it to the goats? LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU BOY!" he roared, and Viserys jumped out of fright, before cautiously lifting his eyes to look at his father, who fixed him with an undecipherable look. Then, suddenly, he moved forward and pulled him into a rough hug. Viserys' face was shoved into the dirty, unwashed hair, and the strong odor that filled his nostrils made him gag. He felt his fathers' long, claw-like fingers move up and down his scalp.

"What happened to you, my boy?" he said softly, before releasing him and stepping back. "I had such high hopes for you. You showed so much potential, even from early on. You were the son I was waiting for, the one that would set things to right. And now, you are scared of your own father, the one that guided you, protected you, loved you for all these years? Why?"

Viserys, still startled by the sudden change in mood, had no words to offer in response. Instead, he stood there with his mouth open, gaping like a fish.  _What the Seven Hells is happening here?_

"It's those filthy horse people, isn't it? I have seen how they treated you, how little respect they showed you, how they tried to kill you. Fucking savages. If I was still alive, I would have set fire to their grassland and watch them burn or starve to death. Useless barbarians. What were you thinking, selling your own sister, your future queen, to them? She may still bear the Targaryen name, but after she has been decked by the horse, she is no longer a worthy dragon. And yet, you choose to follow her, giving her power over you, letting her order you about. You are her older brother, her rightful lord, she should be obedient to you. What kind of man can't keep his own sister, his own woman, under control?"

Aerys, now clearly agitated, began to pace around. Viserys, however, was still rooted to the floor. 

"She is a woman, she should know her place. She gets it from her mother, most likely, she always was a stubborn and traitorous bitch. She never loved me. Hated me, even. I knew she cheated on me, although she always denied it, and I never managed to get any proof. But I still knew. Filthy slut. She hated me so much that she was even willing to kill her own offspring just to deny me them. Miscarriage, they said. I knew she ended their lives, or had someone else do it because she was too craven to do it herself."

Those words were the first that managed to penetrate the thick fog that had taken root inside Viserys' head. 

"That's not true." he croaked. "My mother was a kind, loving and dutiful mother, wife and queen. She would have never done any of those things you accuse her off. You're a liar."

Aerys dismissed his protests with a disinterested flick of his hand. "You were still young, my son, and blinded by love. You did not see the harpy for who she truly was. She was probably trying to turn you against me, even at that age. Did she not warn you to stay away from me?" the statement was met with silence. "I thought so. Vexing me was the only thing that brought joy to her life. Even you were just a weapon she could use against me."

At this point, Viserys could only feebly shake his head. He did not believe a single word his father was saying, he knew his mother was a good person, but his father seemed so agitated that even the slightest sound might cause him to explode once more.

"She tried to have me killed multiple times, you know. She could hardly wait until I was dead so she could replace me with that devil's spawn Rhaegar and his Dornish whore, and put a whole line of disgusting half-breeds on the throne of our noble forefathers. And Rhaegar, the sanctimonious prick was only too happy to get rid of me so he could have the throne to himself. I could see it in his eyes. I doubt he was even mine to begin with. Maybe he was the bastard of that Hasty fellow she was so smitten with, or some other lover she had when we were married. He looked like a Targaryen, sure, but his character was all wrong. But I claimed him as my own nonetheless, because I needed an heir. But I swore that he would never sit on the Iron Throne. That's why I was so desperate to get a son, a worthy heir, one of my own flesh and blood. I had two septas sleep with my wife every night, and I took her as often as I could, although I took little pleasure from sleeping with a lying whore who kills her own children." he shuddered, and, still overwhelmed, Viserys could do nothing but stare.

"But then, she got you, and I could not be happier. Finally, I had a trueborn son that could carry on the name of Targaryen, a son that I could raise in my image. I was so proud of you, Viserys, but also so scared. I knew they were going to hurt you, to kill you, so Rhaegar could take the throne uncontested, but I could not let them do that. Even your wetnurse proved to be a traitor, so I had her burned, luckily before she could poison you. So, you see, I did it to protect you, my son." He took the head of his son gently between his hands, his long, talon-like claws scratching his cheeks.

"Rhaegar would never do that. He was a good man. The people loved him. And he loved us, in his own, distant way. He would have never hurt me, or you, Father. You do him a discredit. You..." his words were cut off when his father slapped him harshly in the face. He reeled away in pain, and when his hand shot to his cheek, blood clung to his fingers.

"Quiet, boy! I knew that bastard better than you ever could, and he was no saint. Took away the Stark girl even though she was betrothed to someone else, didn't he? That was the only moment I ever thought he could be a son of mine. The dragon takes what it wants, after all. It did cause the rest of those ungrateful curs to rise up against us in treasonous rebellion though. Maybe that was his intent all along. To crush the rebellion, gain all the prestige, kill Baratheon so he could keep the Stark wench, and with his new popularity, depose me and become king. A shame his death spoiled his master plan." at this, he chuckled. "His death more than made up for the disastrous losses we suffered that day. I was preparing King's Landing for a siege for quite some time. The wolves would have thrown themselves on our high walls and been repelled time and time again, thrown back with fire and blood. Then, the Tyrell armies would have caught them with their breeches down and the head of the noble Lord Stark would have decorated the walls of the Red Keep. Next, we would have marched out in full force, joined by the Lannister armies, who would have pledged their allegiance to us once they saw our victory was all but assured. But alas, father and son Lannister stabbed us all in the back." The agitated look slowly left his eyes, and he fixed Viserys with a gentle gaze.

"My poor boy. You have suffered so much. Forced to flee your home, losing your father, your throne stolen from you by an jumped-up minor nobleman. We raised the Baratheons out of the muck. We made them a Great House. We gave them power and prestige, and they betray us and usurp us. They took your birthright from you, forced to live a life on the run, a life of danger and poverty, all the while dragging your useless sister with you. Then, she betrays you to those horse savages and nearly lets you die. Betrayed by your brother, your mother, your guardians, your backers and your sister, and loved by none of them. Only I ever loved you, Viserys. I am the only one that ever thought you were precious. I have looked after you for all these years, protected you, guided you. Gave you the strength you needed to survive on the streets. I was the will that drove you forward, the desire for home, justice and revenge. I made you strong. I unleashed the dragon inside of you. And I will do so once again, but now, you have a dragon. Now, you have power, and now, people will heed you. They will respect you. They will FEAR you! You will take your rightful place, in the world and in our family. Your sister will once again bend the knee to you or you will destroy her. It is time for the Dragon to AWAKE AGAIN!" And with those words, his hand moved forward and stabbed his son in the chest and dug his claws painfully in his son's heart. The world darkened before Viserys' eyes, and the last he heard was a mad cackle, before he once again fell into nothingness.

****

"...iserys?" he heard someone shout his name in the distance, but he was too dazed to respond. There was a thick fog in his head, but it was slowly becoming more and more clear. With great effort, he managed to crack open an eye, and after the blurriness faded a bit, the visage of his sister appeared in front of him. She was holding a wet cloth in her hand, and relief was etched all over her face.

"Dany?" he managed to rasp, before she threw herself on him, almost sobbing in relief. Awkwardly, he moved his arms around her back and hugged her. She was mumbling incoherently in his shoulder, and so he gently lifted her head and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Dany, would you mind telling me what happened?" he said, while he gently stroked the back of her head. This seemed to calm her down a bit.

"You fell off your horse when we approached the city. Ser Jorah said the heat got you, and you got a severe sunstroke. But your heartbeat was dropping rapidly, and I was afraid I had lost you."

So it was all in his head then. Of course, his father was dead, to have him appear in front of him was a ridiculous notion.  _It was all in my head, some nightmarish image out of a fevered dream._ And what a nightmare it was. Viserys had often lived in fear of his father when he was young. Small wonder, then, that a projection of his father would come back to haunt his dreams. He sighed out in relief, but suddenly, his cheek erupted in pain when his sister slapped him as hard as she could.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again." she spat out harshly, changing from concerned and caring to furious in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, a red haze appeared in front of his visage, and he could feel white-hot fury welling up inside her.  _How dare she? How dare she raise her voice against her older brother, her rightful king?  How dare she raise her hand against me? She forgets her place. She should be punished, the  filthy whore. She..._

His thoughts were cut off when she once again hugged him, this time sniffing out an apology. "I'm sorry Viserys, that was ill done. I'm not mad at you, I am just relieved you are awake. Please forgive me?"

Suddenly, his mind was reeling.  _What in the Seven Hells came over me? I know she wasn't trying to hurt me, she would never hurt me. Where did those thoughts come from?_   _I should be disgusted by my behavior._ But he wasn't. He was scared. What made him lose his temper so easily? And why were his thoughts so dark? He looked down at his sister, and gently pried her away from him, before lifting her chin to meet his eyes. 

"I know, Dany, you were just relieved. I'm sorry I made you so worried. I promise it won't happen again. And of course you are forgiven. Now, if it is possible, I would like to freshen up a bit." And with those words, he unceremoniously shoved her out of his room. He walked over to the water basin and looked down, half expecting to see someone else's face in the reflection of the water. But it was his own visage that was staring back at him. He splashed some water in his face, and took some cloth to dry it off. When he glanced at the basin again, he let out a scream. Instead of his own face, a pale face with a dirty beard was looking back at him, lips pulled into a cruel, mocking grin.

"You did not think you were rid of me so easily, boy? I'm here to stay."

And the last thing he heard before his world faded into darkness once again, was a mad and taunting laugh.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you have a suggestion or feedback.  
> Constructive criticism is always welcomed.  
> If you like this fic, please give kudos, it keeps me inspired.


	3. City of Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George R.R Martin, HBO, D.B Weiss, David Benioff and all the other people who help make the books and tv show. Also, a shout-out to all the people who liked this fic and/or the one that preceded it and gave a comment. Special shout-out to ShadowGirlLost22 for all the comments and advice, I really appreciate them a lot. This reworked chapter is for you. I hope you'll find it more to your liking than the original.

Her sister's people had named the city Vaes Tolorro, the city of bones. It was certainly an appropriate name, Viserys mused as he strolled through the narrow and crooked alleys. The city had been abandoned for years before the arrival of the  _khalasar,_ and the high buildings, all of them windowless and huddled together gave the place an air of eerie mystery. Dany's handmaidens told him that they should not dally here, because the gods had shunned this place, and now evil sprits roamed at night. Viserys scoffed at that. The only place evil spirits roamed was in his head.

Viserys was making his way to the palace where his sister and him had taken up residence. He had left his sleeping quarters well before dawn, feeling restless.He had always been an early riser, and he found that exploring the city was easier when the sun had yet to show his face. And Vaes Tolorro was a fascinating place. The empty plinths in the squares, the bones of unburied death, it all pointed to some dark past, but at least it had food, water and shade, and it gave the  _khalasar_ a chance to rest and regain their strenght. Despite their initial misgivings, it seems they all took a liking to the place. 

Viserys' explorations had brought him to a secluded garden with several fruit trees, and he put several figs, grapes and peaches in a bag before plucking one last peach and sinking his teeth in its soft flesh. It was a soft, shriveled thing, but the taste was so sweet he could barely contain a moan. After nothing but horse meat for so long, it tasted like it was filled with nectar from the gods themselves. He decided to take one for Dany too before making his way back.

When he entered the tent, his sister was still dozing. He grinned to himself before shouting "Catch!". As she shot up and opened her bleary eyes, she saw the peach sailing towards her, but was too slow to stop it before it bounced off her forehead. With a grunt, she fell backwards. She picked up the offending projectile before casting a glare at her brother, who was staring back with the most innocent smile he could muster.

'Ass!' she muttered, and Viserys chuckled.

'Now now, is that any way to greet your beloved brother, who brought you breakfast? Oh, the ingratitude.' he clutched his heart in mock hurt before handing her the bag. She must have accepted her peace offering, because she send a tired smile his way and patted next to her, indicating that he could sit down. After doing so, she gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

'Your kind offer is much appreciated, my lord, and I will graciously accept this token of your affection.' She bit into the peach, and soon her entire chin was coated in its sticky juices. He grinned when he saw her eyes shut in bliss.

'So, am I forgiven?' he smirked, and when she stroked her chin in mock contemplation, he bumped her with his shoulder. 'Fine! I don't even know why I bother!' he huffed and looked away.

"It is a sweet gesture, but alas, you are not the first one who tried to bribe me with sweets. I'm afraid I am becoming immune to it."

'Oh, and what is the identity of this mysterious suitor? With whom will I have to fight for your affections?' he had a general inkling of whom she was talking about, though. He saw the looks, the longing glances when he thought no one was looking. But, then again, his sister was a beautiful woman, sure to draw the eye of any man. Viserys found himself none too pleased with this thought.

_ Mine. _

'It was Ser Jorah, if you must know. He brought me a peach too. He found it when we first arrived here. It was very thoughtful of him. He stayed with me for a while, trying to keep my mind occupied. I was very worried about you, so he knew I needed the distraction.' By now, the dragons were awake, and as always, Drogon and Rhaegal fought to be the one who got to perch on Dany's shoulder. More often than not, Drogon won. Viserion, however, crawled up his arm and made himself comfortable by draping himself over his shoulders. Viserys absentmindedly patted his head and was rewarded with a satisfied purr. Sometimes, his little dragon looked more like a scaly, lizard-like housecat than a fearsome beast of legend.

'Oh, what did you talk about?' he queried.

'His life, mostly. He told me the story of how he met his second wife. Do you know it?' 

Viserys nodded. He knew. The knight told him a few weeks ago, late an evening. He was deep into his cups, and Viserys doubted that he knew what he was talking about, and most likely he had forgotten that he had even shared it in the first place. He never mentioned later, so even if he did remember, he probably did not want to talk about it anymore, which suited Viserys just fine. It was a sad story anyway. A young man for an ancient but poor house, married to a woman he did not love, who died after the third miscarriage. Called to arms to help his lord crush a rebellion on the Iron Islands. Distinguished himself in the war, becomes a knight. Meets beautiful young daughter of lord Hightower, falls in love. Competes in a tourney to win her favor and actually wins. Allowed to wed the beautiful maiden, but when they arrive at his home, she becomes disillusioned. Too poor to keep up with his wives' demands, he eventually resorts to selling poachers to slavers, breaking the law. Flees rather than face justice at the hands of his liege lords. Becomes a sellsword in the Free Cities, comes home to find his wife a concubine to a merchant prince. A sad tale indeed.

'He told me I look like her.' she added.

'What?'

'Lynesse Hightower. Ser Jorah said she looked like me.' He did not like that. He did not like that at all. He knew Mormont harbored feelings towards Dany that were not entirely appropriate, but he never thought he would be so brazen about it. He studied her face closely, to see if she had come to the same conclusion as he had. Her face, however, was unreadable. So he decided to just come out and say it.

'He fancies you, you know.' When she turned her deadpan expression on him, he knew that she was aware of this.

'Do you take me for a fool, brother? Any person with eyes that work can see that. I am not so blind as to not see how he looks at me when he thinks I'm not watching." She was getting agitated, but it seemed she was more upset with the situation and not so much with him.

'And how does that make you feel?' he ventured carefully, not wanting to stoke her ire any further.

'Confused, mostly. I'm not exactly bothered with the prospect, but it is not what I wanted. I tried picturing myself with him, but he kept changing into Drogo. I don't think I'm meant to find love again. But I do feel bad for him. The Hightower girl has played a cruel jape on his heart. I would not see him suffer even more by my own hand. He may never have his love returned, but we can make sure that he will get back his home and his honor. It is the least we can do for him.'

Despite his initial urge to go out and disembowel the man for thinking of his sister in that way ( _and where did THAT come from?_ ), he had to admit that she was right. Although he did not like the fact that Mormont would be looking at his sister and thinking gods-know-what, the man did not deserve to have his heart broken again. Besides, if he were to kill every man who would think thoughts like that about his sister, there would not be a man alive on this side of the Narrow Sea.

'You are indeed very kind, dear sister. Though, if he truly loves you, even his home might not take away the pain. But he knows that nothing can come of this. He is not a fool. He may be bad at hiding his feelings, but he is wise enough not to act on them.'

'Such a romantic, brother dear' she teased playfully.

'I am merely practical, sweet sister. You are a Targaryen, the Blood of Old Valyria, scions of royalty. He is an exiled minor lord from the North, with small holdings and more pride than money. He is too lowborn for you, and I hope he remembers that.'

'And what if I fell in love with him? Could we be together?' she inquired, and at his look hastily added, 'it is merely speculative, don't look at me like that!'

'It would be frowned upon, but we Targaryens never bothered with the opinion of others. Marriage between brother and sister is a sin according to the Faith, but special allowances were made for our family. I suppose if the lord of your house agreed to the match, it could be done, but no lord would marry his sister to someone so far below her.' 

'Not even if I loved him?'

He sighed. 'Love rarely factors into marriage, sweet sister. Marriage is forming alliances, first and foremost. Creating ties between houses that stand to gain from such a union.  To be honest, I am surprised Lord Hightower even approved of the match to begin with. Ser Jorah might have been a noble and valiant man, and he may have even been comely in his day, but it is a bad match nonetheless.The Mormonts are an old and proud house, but House Hightower is older, prouder and richer. They are the lords of Oldtown, the second largest city in the Seven Kingdoms, one of the largest trading ports in the Realm. House Mormont has lordship over a few acres of pineforest and hills in the frozen North. House Hightower stood to gain next to nothing from a match with them, especially when they could have married her to a Redwyne, a Fossoway or a Florent to strenghten their position in the Reach. That is what marriage is all about, after all. A good marriage pacts will bring the houses wealth, prestige or political power.'

'Or an army of Dothraki screamers to take back the Seven Kingdoms?' she retorted sharply, and suddenly the air was thick with tension. They had never really discussed the marriage he had forced upon his sister, marrying a savage warlord so he could get his army, nor the cruel words he spoke to her beforehand.

'Dany, I...' he started, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

'Don't bother, Viserys. You can make up all the excuses you want, but you did mean it at the time. You know, I don't know what the scariest part was; the fact that I was going to marry a Dothraki Khal I had never seen before, a man from a culture that was foreign to me and who only spoke a language I did not understand, or the fact that my own brother saw me as nothing but a tool, a possession, something worthless to be discarded when its usefulness had run its course.'

He looked at the ground, ashamed. While he believed it was his duty to arrange her a good marriage and the marriage offer was very attractive, he knew that only he would have reaped the benefits from it. In Westeros, he would have married her off to a High Lord or even married her himself for the very same reason, but at least it would have been mostly familiar. Instead, he married her to a savage. 

'It turned out alright, didn't it?' he put forth meekly, but felt silent when his sister sent him the frostiest glare she could muster. Unbidden, a thought rose in his head.

_ That arrogant chit should know her place. She is your sister, yours to do with as you please. If you want to marry her out to a savage, it is within your rights to do so. She might be of your blood, but you are the Dragon! You cannot let your eyes wander from your destiny. Everything you have done, everything you do, everything you will do is aimed towards righting the wrongs committed against our family, restoring what is yours by right. If letting ten thousand men rape her puts you closer to that, it is a sacrifice worth making. She may spout all this nonsense about how it was morally wrong to do so, but she knows nothing, NOTHING of the burden that is destiny. Men like you, burdened with glorious purpose, can ill afford the luxury of having morals. You should not be bothered with them, they are invented by the weak to protect themselves against the strong. Look up, LOOK UP ,you spineless lickspittle, and show that bitch her place! Show me that you have some backbone, you pathetic worm. Or do I have to punish you? _

'Viserys?' Dany ventured, noticing her brother was no longer paying attention to her. He was just standing there, eyes staring into nothingness. Sighing, she walked up to him. 'Viserys, are you still in there?' she prodded, and waved her hands in front of his face to get his attention. Still, he did not notice her. When she looked into his eyes, she saw no recognition, no emotion, nothing. But then, suddenly, all the color drained from his face. His breathing became heavy, labored. His whole body started to shake. Suddenly, he started to groan and his hands shot to his face, pressing up against his temples. Suddenly, he fell to his knees, emitting a low, keening sound that swiftly rose in pitch until he was almost screaming. 

Dany, in fear, grabbed his shoulders and tried to shake him out of whatever spell it was that got its hold on him. But it did not seem to get through to her brother, who was still crying out in agony.  _I'm starting to make a habit of this_ , she thought grimly to herself as she raised her hand and smacked him in the face.

A sharp pain erupted on his right cheek as his head was wrenched to the left by the power of the slap. 

'I'm sorry Viserys, but it was the only way I...' she was cut off when he advanced on her, giving her the coldest look she had ever seen. The complete and utter lack of emotions made her take several steps backwards in fright. Drogon, sensing his mothers distress, flew up to her shoulder and hissed towards Viserys.

'Don't ever presume to touch me in such a manner again!' he spoke softly, but the warning was laid bare for all to see. He stretched out his hand towards her throat, but just before he touched it, he drew back his hand as if he was burned. He took several steps backwards and looked towards his hands with a look of concern, perhaps even distress. Then, he heard Dany's voice 

'Viserys? Are... are you alright?'

'I'm fine' he mumbled, but he could tell without even seeing her face that she did not believe him.

'Those were not the actions of a man that is "fine", we both know that, so do yourself a favor and stop lying to me. I deserve some fucking honest from you." she spat out, evidently not prepared to leave him be.

'I.... I...'  _I can't tell her the truth. She can't know. Our relationship is not strong enough to survive such a thing. And how would one even go about explaining such a thing? Sorry Dany, I cannot be held responsible for my deeds, my father was living inside my head the whole time and he would punish me if I displeased him._

'Fine', he sighed, whiping the hair out of his eyes, all while his mind was desperately searching for an excuse. ' I don't know what it is, but ever since the stroke, I get these terrible headaches at times. Feels like they are splitting open my skull. It's probably just because of lack of rest. Maybe I should retire to my tent and try to get a couple of hour's rest."  _Well, technically I didn't lie. I do get headaches since then. I could use some rest, too._

He moved towards the exit of the tent, but Dany held out her arm, stopping him.

'You're still not being honest with me.' she stated.

'Dany, please, can we talk about this another time? I really don't want to go into this right now.'

She stood defiant in the opening of the tent for 2 minutes, barring his escape and looking at him with narrowed eyes before she gave up and went back to her seat.

"I still want to know what happened. I can see through your lies. You were never good at fooling others, only yourself. When I ask next, I'll expect compete and total honesty. You got that?' she sniped, but through her irritation she could sense the hurt in her voice, seeing him lie to her face like that must have hurt her more than he would have thought?

Viserys, already exiting the tent, did not turn his head anymore, but gave a curt nod. Keeping a brisk pace, it wasn't long before he found himself in another abandoned courtyard. Looking around to see if someone was nearby and founding none, he sank down on a bench and put his head into his hands.

This was.... worse than he thought. It seemed that his "connection" with his father was proving stronger than he had hoped. Hearing stray thoughts that were not his own inside his head was distressing enough, but the voice was apparently more influential than he had thought if it was able to alter his behaviour. Or not so much alter as 'revert back'. There was a point in a not so distant past when he really did think those thoughts and said those words. 

It is said that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. He had heard a saying once that every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin and the world holds his breath to see how it will land. At the time, he had put it down as anti-Targaryen propaganda, aimed to destroy his reputation and weaken his chances to gain back his throne. He wasn't mad, his ancestors weren't mad and his father wasn't mad. His so-called madness was just a flimsy excuse for the Usurper to supplant him and his family. But privately, he had wondered at times how much of the story was actually made up. He may have been quite young at that age, but he saw things. He saw his mother having an almost violent reaction when his father was near, paling, shaking, almost quivering in fear. He remembered having nightmares about his father, about the way he looked and spoke. The way Rhaegar looked at their father with a sad gaze, almost melancholy, like he could remember better days, when their father was still a good man and a good king. But he always pushed those thoughts firmly aside. To acknowledge there was any truth to that story would be to acknowledge that the rebellion had been just, and in his mind, it would that what happened to his brother, his goodsister, their children, his mother, his sister and himself was justified. But deep inside, he had always feared that the infamous Targaryen madness was real. And, as it turned out, it was. Maegor I Targaryen was mad. Baelor I Targaryen was mad. Aerion Targaryen, who died from drinking wildfire, was mad. His father, Aerys II Targaryen, was mad. And, he feared, so was Viserys III Targaryen. And if he wasn't, he was well on his way. For what would his father's presence in his head be if not the prelude to madness? 

At first, he had merely blamed the heat, and the stroke he had for his weird dream and his follow-up hallucination of seeing his father's reflection in the water basin. But as time went by, the visions did not disappear. He began thinking different thoughts than his own more and more often, but today was the first time they weren't just thoughts, but words and actions. And it frightened him. It frightened him a lot. His father was capricious man, prone to great cruelty. Add that to Viserys' general impatience, it was a disaster waiting to happen. He could get hurt, or he could hurt other people. Like Dany.

_ No, _  he swore to himself,  _I will not let that happen. I am stronger than this. I am the master of my own mind. No dead father will be able to claim my thoughts. I have to find a way to get him out, and if that is not possible, contain him so he can never bother or hurt someone else._ Even if he thought those words, he thought he heard someone, in the farthest recesses of his mind, snickering.  _In the meantime, no one needs to know. I'll have to think of something to tell Dany. I can't tell her this, even if it breaks my heart to break hers. Again._ It seemed that no matter what he did, his sister would get hurt somehow.  _She deserves better._

He was shaken from his reverie by a commotion in the central square. One of Dany's bloodriders had returned with good news. He had found a city, a living city, a big city, somwhere they could rest, replenish and restock. Maybe, with some luck, a ship back to the Free Cities. He had seen enough from the desert in a good long while. But, at least he thought when they set out for Qarth, the worst is surely behind us?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it has certainly been a while, hasn't it? I am the worst when it comes to updating, my apologies for that. Real life gets in the way too often. Also, I am still not entirely sure where I'm going to take this fic, so for now, I'm making it up as I go along. But I still enjoy writing it from time to time, and when I read your lovely comments, it really makes me happy. It is always nice to hear one's work is appreciated, so thank you for that. I will endeavour to update on a more regular basis, but I can't promise anything. 
> 
> This chapter used to have a different ending, but I wasn't really thrilled with it, and someone told me it felt a little bit out of character for Viserys to share it, and after reading it again, I could not agree more, so because I am the editor as well as the writer, I edited it to something more to my liking. If you prefer the new ending, let me know, if you liked the old one, you can share that as well but I'm not going to change it again. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it, leave a comment if you do and give kudos if you haven't done so before (but only if you like it :) ) and I will see you guys for the next update, which will be on November 18 2019, if my previous track record is anything to go by.


	4. Qarth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George R.R. Martin, HBO and the producers of Game of Thrones

The road to Qarth was a hard one, and they endured much of the same as when they were crossing the Red Waste. Yet, the rest they had enjoyed at Vaes Tolorro and the thought of what lay ahead spurred them on greatly, and they made good time, as if they had the wind in their wings. Dany, in high spirits, rode ahead, chatting with her bloodriders, Rhaegal perched on her shoulder. Normally, he would be by her side, enjoying his sisters' infectious cheer, but since his little episode, he decided to keep his distance from him. He still caught her looking warily at him when she thought he wasn't looking, but so far, she had respected his wish and not confronted him about it. He was grateful for that small mercy.

He was also grateful for the fact that ser Jorah had decided to keep him company today. He did not know if the knight was there from his own volition or if his sister merely asked him to keep an eye on him, but he was thankful for the distraction nonetheless. It was.... easier to keep him out if he was distracted. When alone, it became increasingly different to ignore the voice. Viserion, as always around his neck, seemed to sense his distress and rubbed his scaly head on his shoulder. He absentmindedly scratched the small dragon under his chin, only withdrawing his finger when Viserion tried to playfully bite his finger. It was a dragon, after all, with razor sharp teeth, and he had no wish to lose any appendages today.

"... you even listening to me, Your Grace?" ser Jorah's voice pierced his mind. The knight looked amused at his young king, who was clearly with his head in the clouds. Viserys grinned apologetically.

"Sorry, Mormont, just woolgathering. You were saying?"

"It's good to see the princess in such high spirits. The road has been long and hard, and I'm afraid it took a high toll on her. It is good to see she can still smile and laugh."

Viserys found himself agreeing with the knight. Sure, his sister put on a brave front for her people, but he knew her well enough to tell real smiles from fake ones, and the latter had been prevalent more than not lately. The loss of her husband and child, the trek through the Red Waste, watching her people suffer and die, helpless to stop it, it indeed took a high toll. But in Vaes Tolorro, the smiles had come back, her people saved, at least for the time being. And now, with salvation nigh, she seemed elated. It was good to see that all the hardships had not broken her spirit, that she could still find it in her to believe, to hope, to dream. Despite everything they had been through, Dany still had a sort of innocence to her, something precious, some faith in the world and herself. That was something Viserys himself had lost a long time ago.

"I'm glad. Her smile is something I have not seen in too long a time." He was staring at the back of her head in contemplation when she suddenly turned her head. Their eyes met and they could not break the stare. In the end, he gave a small, unsure smile that she cautiously returned, mollified if not completely appeased. Still, when she turned away, he could not suppress a sigh. He was softly shaking his head when he noticed Mormont was staring quizzically at him.  _Great! Now he will be watching me all the time as well._

"Something I can help you with?" he barked, his good mood long since evaporated. Ser Jorah, for his part, took his sudden mood change in stride and wisely did not comment on it.

"Forgive my impertinence, Your Grace, but I haven't failed to notice there is some kind of argument between you and your sister. You are actively avoiding her, and she is keeping her distance, although I can see that she doesn't like it."

"Been watching my sister, have you?" he replied sardonically, and he got a vicious sort of pleasure in seeing the knight flinch, before a very unseemly blush settled on his cheeks. But it was quickly replaced by a sense of guilt. The poor man was just doing his duty, after all, and he was wise enough to keep his thoughts and emotions to himself. So he cut through all the stammering of "I am sworn to look after her" and "I would  _never_ in a thousand years...." and said "Stop your blubbering, Mormont, I know your intentions are honourable. Also, am I correct in thinking that Dany sent you to me in order to get some answers out of me?" 

The knight did not reply, but he did not need to. Viserys could read him like a book.

"I did not do it solely because she commanded me to, Your Grace. In fact, I share her concerns. Something is troubling you, and I want you to know that if you need someone to confide in, I offer you my humble services. I promise I won't even tell the princess if that is what you desire." 

Could he trust the knight? Their relationship had improved in the past few weeks, true, and it seemed like they had found some accord, but he was under no illusion that his allegiance to Dany outweighed the loyalty he had for his king. He wanted to trust the knight, but in the end, he decided it was best to keep his secret to himself. For now, at least.

"I think the pressure of it all is getting to me, Mormont. For years I have tried, in vain, to win back my throne, to go home. It was my dearest wish, my grandest desire. But it always seemed so far off, and in a way, that was comforting. Responsibilities I did not yet had to face, battles that I did not yet needed to fight. But now, when we are finally getting closer to achieving that goal, I find myself scared, scared of the future, scared of my so-called destiny. I can hide from those responsibilities no longer, I can't put off those battles any more. In the coming weeks, months, maybe years, I will be tested, and I fear that I will not be able to pass those tests. I have felt the weight of my ancestors legacy on my shoulders for all my life, but never have I felt it so keenly. I am not Aegon the Conqueror reborn, but I have to be. I fear that I will fail them. I fear that my legacy will be the total destruction of my entire house. I will be responsible for the disappearance of the House Targaryen."

When he was done speaking, he was breathing heavily. He may not have told Mormont what was really on his mind, but that did not mean what he said wasn't true. He was scared. Scared shitless! He was a failure in every sense of the word, but still he was expected to carry on, ever spurred on by his family name and the great responsibility he was shouldered with. 

He nearly jumped out of his saddle when he felt a gauntleted hand fall on his shoulder. He looked at Mormont and saw the old knight's face twisted in sympathy.

"When I was your age, maybe slightly older, my father left the lordship of Bear Island to me and joined the Night's Watch. I was humbled by the faith he put in me, but I was also terrified. Despite the fact that I was groomed for rule since an early age, it always seemed like something that was always in the distant future, from the day I started my education till the day my father left. It wasn't until the day he left that the responsibilities he had always warned me about came crashing down on me. Suddenly, I was the lord, and my people looked to me for guidance and protection. Suddenly, I was responsible for their lives and their well-being. It was a very humbling experience. I have found that those who long to rule are most often those most ill-equipped for it, because they have no idea what actual rule is. In my youth, I could not wait to be the Lord of Bear Island, to wield the power myself and to rule over those lands, despite the fact that I thought it was still far off. That changed the day I actually became lord, and knew what it really entailed." At this, Mormont turned his head and stared off into the distance.

"I did do my best to become a good lord, to rule my people fairly and protect them from harm. For their sake, of course, but also because I wanted to make my father proud. He entrusted his lordship to me, the legacy of the House Mormont. We may have never been a powerful house, or a rich one, but we are an old house, and we hold honour in the highest regard. It was a lot to live up to, but I was determined to try. In the end, it did not really matter. I ended up betraying my people, shaming my family, and disappointing my father. I did not only flee to remain with my wife, but I could have never joined the Night's Watch knowing he would be there, and seeing the disappointment on his face after he knew what his son had done. It is hard enough to live with the knowledge that he knows of my shameful deeds without having to face him himself." Viserys noted that his eyes had misted over, and the tone of pain in his voice was unmistakable. When the knight saw Viserys watching, he noticeably pulled himself back together, and when he spoke, his tone was light, but the false cheer was evident in his voice.

"So, as you can see, Your Grace, I know a few things about failing and disappointing people. But you can never know what the Gods have intended for you. After all, they brought me, a disgraced former knight halfway across the world in service of the Exiled king and his sister, the last Targaryens. Fate works in mysterious ways, it seems. I urge you though to keep your sister close. Any situation becomes less dire when you have someone to share the load with." With that, he rode off towards the head of the column, where Dany was riding. Viserys looked past them, where a red sandstone wall rose from the ground in the far distance. At last, they had reached their destination.

*****

It is best to treat all boasts with a healthy dose of skepticism, because they often inflate or otherwise exaggerate the importance of the thing they are boastful of. Despite the fact that he often portrayed King's Landing to his sister as the most magical place in the world, he knew that the reality was far less flattering. Nonetheless, Viserys would be hard pressed to name a city that was as impressive as Qarth.  Everything from the magnificent outer walls to the splendour found within, the colours, the shapes, the people, everything was exotic and grand. 

Of course, his enthusiasm was slightly dampened by the welcome they had received. Granted, he had not expected them to herald their coming with gongs and horns, and send out an honour guard on camels to escort them into the city, where people would be lining the streets to get a glimpse of the Targaryen siblings and their following. But he also did not expect them to greet them with a several spearmen to bar their entrance into the city. Behind them, a group of well dressed men, probably nobles, lined up to watch the newest curiosity to approach their city.

Standing beside his sister, he could practically feel her mounting anger about the hospitality they were receiving. When she stepped forward and began stating her name, she was rudely cut off by a fat merchant, who was probably in charge. Even though part of him seethed at the disrespect, the look on his sister's face did make him bite back a chuckle.

"And you must be Viserys Targaryen, son of Aerys II Targaryen, the Mad King, and "rightful ruler" of Westeros?" the fat man turned to him. Viserys stepped up next to his sister.

"You know us, my lord?" he said, after he inclined his head. 

"Only by reputation, Your Grace. And I'm no lord, merely a humble merchant. Just as you are no king, but only pretending to be one." Viserys swallowed back a thousand insults he would normally heap upon the man, and the urge to let Viserion loose upon him, but they needed to get into the city. "I do admit," the merchant continued, "I have heard many a conflicting tale, as of late. I don't mean to cause offense, but word reached me you were dead. Murdered by your sister's husband, no less."

Viserys gritted his teeth so hard some fishermen in Lannisport must have looked up after casting his nets, wondering what that sound was. "Rumors and hearsay, good sir. You should not believe everything you are told."

At this, the fat man nodded, "A wise lesson indeed." He turned back to Dany, "They call you the Mother of Dragons, yet I don't see any signs of them. We, the Thirteen, ruling body of Qarth, greatest city that ever was or ever will be, would very much like to see them. No man in living memory has seen a dragon, and some of my more sceptical friends refuse to believe your... children... even exist. All we ask is the chance to see for ourselves."

This, of course, only served to make Dany more angry, which in turn convinced the merchant that it was not in their best interest to let them into the city. He heard Mormont try to caution her, but it was too late to reign her in now. Viserys had to admit, despite her small stature and young age, she could be very intimidating if she wanted to. As she promised to rain death and destruction on their heads if she turned them away now, he heard that voice that was becoming rapidly familiar in the back of his head.

_Now SHE seems to have the true Targaryen spirit. Maybe I was wrong to put all my hopes on such a pathetic weakling such as yourself. She shows more promise than you ever did. Maybe I should pay her a little visit._ the voice whispered, and suddenly it seemed that, just for an instant, he was no longer in control of his own body. It was a fleeting sensation, gone before he could properly experience it, but it unsettled him nonetheless. 

Luckily, it seemed that her little speech had managed to impress one of the Thirteen, and he was willing to vouch for them. At long last, they were able to enter the city.

****

Xaro Xhoan Daxos, as their saviour was called, graciously offered them his hospitality. And generous it certainly was. Viserys was no stranger to mansions and palaces from his early days in the Free Cities, before he had worn out his welcome, but this palace easily dwarfed them all. Dany had profusely thanked him, and he did the same, although less enthusiastic. He had seen Daxos sneak a peek at his sister from time to time, so Viserys told himself he was justified in being wary. Such generosity rarely comes for free, and it would not be that far-fetched to believe Daxos may have designs on his sister. He would have to keep an eye on him. It certainly wasn't because he disliked the way the man looked at his sister. Absolutely not.

Dany send out ser Jorah to the docks, to catch the latest gossip and to hear if there were any tidings from the Seven Kingdoms. Viserys offered to join him, wanting to see a bit more of this magnificent city, but Mormont pointed out that Viserys was exhausted and could use the time to get some sleep. Viserys really could not argue with that, so after taking a refreshing bath and washing all the dust, grime and sand away, he let himself fall in what was probably the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in and had dozed off in less than a minute.

He was still in sleep's clutches when he faintly heard someone calling his name before a couple of hand seized him rougly by the shirt and practically shook him awake. He opened his bleary eyes and looked at Dany with annoyance, although the slightly dazed look and his rumpled appearance probably ruined the message he was trying to convey.

"What?" he huffed.

"He's dead, Viserys. The Usurper is dead!" Dany was almost giddy in her joy, and when her message finally pierced the fog that had shrouded his mind, all thoughts of sleep and tiredness were immediately dispelled from his mind. 

"What?"

"Ser Jorah found this captain, a Summer Islander who had called on Oldtown not half a year ago. When he was there, he heard that Robert Baratheon was dead. According to rumors, he was either mauled by a boar, poisoned by his Lannister queen or betrayed by his Stark Hand."

"His son Joffrey now sits on the Iron Throne" Mormont said, entering the room. "A mere boy. It seemed his uncles have risen up against him though, and he has only the power of house Lannister behind him. The North have raised their banners in rebellion when they killed Ned Stark for treason. What a load of rubbish. Ned Stark loved Robert, and he loved his precious honour. The Long summer will come again before that one would besmirch it by betraying his best friend."

"He was a traitor!" Viserys said sharply. "He betrayed his liege lord and massacred his entire family. He aided in the slaughter of innocent children, or at least supported a man who did. It's a pity they did not keep him alive until we reclaim our homeland, I would have gladly given him his just dues. His treason would have been cleansed with fire and blood"

_Good, little one!  Maybe there is still hope for you yet._ the voice came unbidden, but this time, it went away as quickly and suddenly as it came. 

Despite giving him a searching look, Dany seemed to agree somewhat with him. This was one of the men responsible for the death of their family, for them growing up without a home and being on the run their whole lives. It was unlikely that his passing would be mourned by the Targaryen siblings. 

When he listened to the rest of the captain's account, Dany gleefully pointed out that their enemies had scattered and were fighting against each other, like what happened when Drogo died. This would be the perfect timing for an invasion, she said. Mormont cautioned her somewhat, however, because nothing unites enemies quicker than an external threat. He also pointed out that they currently had no army, no ships and no money, all things they would need to reconquer Westeros. But despite his careful pragmatism, there was little that could damp the spirit of the two siblings on that day, after finally being free of the shadow that had haunted them for all their lives.

   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, finally got around to releasing another chapter. It did not take me more than a year to get it out, so I'm gonna call that progress. For those who are paying attention, I'm still mixing the book and the show somewhat, taking elements from both. It is still possible for the second season/book, the differences between them are not that big or impact-full. But it's good to get another update out. I should really update more regularly, but stuff always comes up, and I have said it so many times I don't believe myself anymore when I say it. So, concerning the next update, I'll get it out whenever I get around to it. I'll do my best, I promise.
> 
> Remember, if you like, leave a comment below or give kudos. If you don't like it, I'm sure there is something on this site for you too, maybe try finding that instead of spending time on something you don't like. That would be very silly indeed.


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